


A Cottage In The Snowy Woods

by ready_to_kick_some_ass



Category: Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D. (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - No SHIELD, Canon Divergence, F/M, FitzSimmons Secret Santa, FitzSimmons Secret Santa 2018, Fluff, Friends to Lovers, Hurt/Comfort, Light Angst, Reunions, Sexual Content
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-03
Updated: 2019-01-03
Packaged: 2019-10-03 15:10:32
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 11,605
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17286392
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ready_to_kick_some_ass/pseuds/ready_to_kick_some_ass
Summary: This is a FitzSimmons Secret Santa Gift for stjarna <3Prompt: "My car broke down, and my phone battery is dead, and it’s snowing like crazy, but I managed to hike back to this lovely Perthshire scottage I passed before my car gave up on me, and surely you’ll allow me to warm up here and call for help?"





	A Cottage In The Snowy Woods

**Author's Note:**

  * For [stjarna](https://archiveofourown.org/users/stjarna/gifts).



Jemma Simmons stares out of the windscreen of her car in astonishment. The street in front of her is barely visible under the masses of snow. The world is a white cold raging wildfire. The snow storm caught it completely by surprise.

Jemma doesn’t know where she is. Her surroundings are incognizable. She had been on her way to the farm of her parents. To visit them for the holidays.

At first it had been snowing only slightly. It had been quite lovely, to watch the snowflakes falling softly on the calm pristine winter landscape around her with grace and elegance, but at some point, Jemma had to pull over because she just could not see _anything_.

There was no going forward. The car couldn’t strive against the firm mass of snow waves in front of it. It has been protesting the few metres she still managed to drive, engines roaring. And now, she isn’t able start it at all.

It happened so quickly …

Now the snow is so dense that the world around her seems to be a flickering, white mass. The wind howls and makes the car wobble slightly from time to time.

It's astonishing how quickly the silent winter becomes a loud scary opponent. The deserted nature, just a few moments ago still a lovely, calm and peaceful scenery accompanying her on her slow travel, now seems threatening. Endless and bleak. She’s in the middle of nowhere. And it’s about to get dark. The sky is grey, and the heavy dark clouds of the storm flying over it steal every remaining light.

Jemma tries to start the car again. But it’s no use. The battery must be dead.

“Oh, come on,” she mumbles. The first hint of anxiety makes her throat tighten.

She pulls out her mobile and dials an emergency number. She’s not really surprised when she realizes that the line’s gone dead too. A short hysterical chuckle escapes her. Oh, how fitting. How very fitting.

Jemma curses.

Her stomach drops as she realizes she has a genuine problem. She’s in the middle of nowhere, there’s no one she can call for help, and it’s freezing cold. She shudders and tries to wrap her dark blue parka tighter around herself. It doesn’t help much. Her breath rises up in visible clouds in front of her. The sharp frosty winter wind blows snowflakes against her car relentlessly. It’s a dense flickering curtain of white. And it doesn’t look like it’s going to stop any time soon.

The first hint of desperation stirs in her. Together with the anxiety, it creates a tense crampy feeling in her chest and stomach. She can’t stay here. It’s too cold. Her face and her fingers already start to feel numb.

She struggles for an idea. Anything.

Suddenly, with a warming twinge of hope, she remembers the lovely little cottage in the woods she has driven past a while ago. The flickering lights in there. A vague promise of warmth and shelter. She could try to hike back there. It can’t be far away. At least she thinks so. Something in Jemma’s stomach twists at the scary thought of walking through the impenetrable  snow while it’s dark and stormy around her. But what other choice does she have?

She pulls her scarf up so it covers half her face, puts on her mittens, grabs her suitcase, and opens the car door. With a deep breath, she leaves the relative safety of the vehicle and surrenders herself to the stormy outside.

The snow she steps in is almost knee-deep. Her boots sink into it, like into a sticky swamp. The wind blows snowflakes against her and she raises a gloved hand to shield her eyes. She’s shocked by the ferocity of the wind. The snow stings on her face and she coughs, as she gets some of it into her mouth. Jemma bows her head until her chin touches her chest and begins to walk.

Walking is exhausting. And slow. She takes step after step, sinking into the sticky snow that seems to try to cling to her. Soon her toes inside her boots feel numb. The freezing wet snow creeps everywhere. There’s no escape from it. Her lungs burn with every breath. The cold is a white-hot fire inside her.

Jemma doesn’t only feel unbelievable cold, she also feels incredibly lonely. She has nothing left in this moment but the vague hope of a shelter somewhere in the depths of this storm. Once, she turns around and realizes that her footsteps disappear under new layers of snow immediately. It’s scary. The world is being erased around her. Jemma’s whole body is shivering by now. She can’t supress it.  
Her mind quickly and unhelpfully reminds her of early symptoms for hypothermia. She knows them by heart. She needs to find shelter soon. She just hopes, she’s still going into the right direction.

When Jemma leaves the even empty area of the country road, and enters the woods, she makes out the silhouettes of tall naked trees around her, rearing up like skeletons.  
They throw huge shadows on the snow and on her. It’s suddenly a lot darker. Her heart is beating in her throat. She continues to forge ahead through the snow.

Finally, she sees a dim flickering light in the middle of the dense snow curtain in front of her. She feels a hint of hope.

There’s the cottage. And whoever’s living there, they are home.

The building is appearing in the shadows before her only slowly. It’s small and looks a bit crooked. It crouches low between the towering trees and brushwood, as though it is trying to hide.  
In the dim light surrounding the cottage, she can make out the coarse, unevenly sized, grey stones that make up the walls. There’s a thin silver trail curling up from the stone chimney. Together with the light inside, the smoke was the only thing that made the cottage not seem abandoned.

Jemma quickly shoves away every scary thought about probable murderers that could choose to live alone in such a lonely cottage in the countryside. She has been watching way too much Criminal Minds for the last weeks …

She knocks at the door of the cottage twice, with numb stiff fingers.

After a moment, that seems like eternity, she hears a creaking from inside, and the door opens slowly.  

A man looks out. He’s not much taller than her, but that’s pretty much the only thing Jemma can say without a doubt, because his sight is blurred. The sudden bright light that’s greeting her from inside, blinds her and she squints.

“I’m sorry to, to bother you, but … my car … I got snowed in,” she presses out, her teeth clattering. “And the, the line’s gone dead. I really don’t know  … what … where …”

“Come in,” the man says, interrupting her stuttering and opening the door wide for her.

“Thank you,” Jemma breathes relieved.

She enters the cottage and the man closes the door behind her.

*

The sudden warmth in the cottage is almost overwhelming. Jemma’s nose starts to drip immediately, her eyes get teary and she sniffs.

She shuffles a few steps into the narrow dim hallway and realizes with a twinge of shame that she’s dripping on the floor. She turns around, both to apologize and to thank the man again, only to close her mouth in surprised shock.

He’s standing right in front of her. He’s close. Close enough so she can see the bright blue in his eyes, his  curls and the light stubble on his face.  
He blinks at her and his mouth opens in slight surprise.

Jemma feels her stomach drop. Her eyes widen.

She knows the man.

And he knows her.

Can it really be …

“Fitz?” She breathes, and he flinches.  

Oh God. She can barely believe it.

It really is him. It’s …

A wave of memories overwhelms her in stunning speed.

  
  
They went to school together.

Fitz had moved into her town together with his mother. He had appeared in her class one day, looking down on his feet while the teacher had introduced him. He barely smiled and there was a certain deliberate seriousness in his eyes, that sometimes could have been sadness as well.  
Since the only free place had been beside Jemma, he became her seatmate.

She soon realized, that he was smart. Smarter than the rest of the class. Maybe almost as smart as herself. Almost.

In the beginning, they haven’t given each other a lot of attention. Jemma thought they were more like rivals. Being the smartest brains in class. It often felt like a competition between them. Like they were trying to be quicker, better than each other.

Fitz didn’t talk a lot. And he was distanced. She often thought he hated her. For some weird reason.

But then came a project they had to do together for chemistry. They met in the library for it. There, apart from school, annoying classmates and teachers, it felt different. Jemma discovered that Fitz was good in following her rules when it came to organisation. And he was good with his hands. Where she lacked fine motor skills, he completed her in a satisfying way. They were quick and had the project finished in no time at all. After that, they had been talking, really talking, for the first time.

That was the first time, that she felt, like they could be a good team. That was a surprise. A pleasant one.

Jemma had never been good in socialising. She became impatient with her peers, who way too often didn’t share her interests at all, too quickly. It wasn’t like she didn’t try. But things didn’t turn out like she’d wanted them too. It wasn’t unusual, that she thought she managed to get into a group of people, only to hear them chatting and laughing about her secretly. It was frustrating and at some point, she didn’t find the energy to try.

While she was being ignored by most people by now, Fitz was soon bullied by the older boys, who were annoyed by school, frustrated by life and were searching for a welcome distraction from their own problems. They bullied him for his clothes, which were a bit worn out and sometimes too small for him. They bullied him for reading books in the break and for his seriousness. Or for his stuttering and violent blushing, when he was forced to say something in front of the whole class.

One time, when Jemma saw him sitting alone on a bench, eating his lunch, she decided to sit beside him. He looked up at her surprised but didn’t say anything. Since then, they sat together in every break. Jemma started to give Fitz the things she didn’t like to eat. For example, her mushy bananas. She couldn’t stand the texture of it. Fitz took them and gave her his cereal bars instead. It was a great arrangement.

It was only the beginning.

They started to spend more and more time together. After school, they walked home, talking. She started to learn things about him. Bits of his life. She learned about his father. An alcoholic, who called his son a worthless, useless disappointment. He was the reason, why Fitz couldn’t stand to be called Leopold anymore. The name was connected to too many painful memories.

When Fitz’s father started to get violent, his mother took Fitz and they moved away. First into another village in Scotland. But they wanted to get even farer away and finally moved to Jemma’s hometown.

Jemma thought that it was horribly sad, that a father would say such things to his son. Especially, because Fitz was simply brilliant. She told him so, when he showed her some of his sketches of possible future inventions. He blushed and shook his head. But she sensed that it made him happy.

He complimented her a lot too. He called her smart a lot and told her she would totally win a Nobel prize in the future. For some new medication or a mind-blowing discovery in biology. To hear him talking about it like it wasn’t just a dream, but something that was fixed, bound to happen, felt great. Because she was used to mild laughter and indulgent glances, when she talked about her imaginations of future.  
  
Fitz came into her life and suddenly was like a part of her that had been missing. He completed her. As much as Jemma told herself, that she didn’t need things others at her age did – parties, boys, alcohol … - and didn’t need the company of her peers who never understood her anyway, she still felt that something was missing, and that social contact was important in certain situations. Fitz gave her that. He didn’t want to do loud or stressful things. They watched movies together and laughed, while eating popcorn or pizza. Being with him was simple and fun.

But somehow, they finally lost each other in the chaos of life.

Fitz was accepted by one of the universities of his dreams. He has told her about it for hours, how leading they were in the field of engineering. When he held the letter in his hand, he first almost cried happy tears. But then, he stared at Jemma and his eyes widened, when he realized what would happen if he left. He stopped to be sure about it, but Jemma encouraged him to go.

“It’s your dream, Fitz,” she told him. “Go and catch it.”

It was sad to see Fitz leave, but they promised each other to stay in contact. Unfortunately, after some phone calls and texting, Fitz stopped contacting her and Jemma considered there was too much going on, where he was.

Or … that he wasn’t that interested in her anymore. That he had found another friend.

But that happens right? That friends grow apart sometime.

At least she thought so and tried not to be hurt. She failed most of the times. He was on her mind constantly. She had the feeling that no one else could ever understand her the way he did.  

 

And now he’s standing right in front of her. A snowstorm has driven her back into his world.

Fitz.

Her friend.

 _But there has been more in the end_ , a tiny but insistent voice in her mind says. _There has been more than friendship and you_ _know it. You felt it._  

Her cheeks start to burn slightly even though they still feel quite frozen.

It’s true. She’d have something like a crush on him. She started to notice, when they had their movie evenings or their regular walks through the nature. She started to notice, when her stomach fluttered in a certain way, whenever Fitz looked at her with his way too blue eyes. Or when his hand accidentally brushed hers when he was reaching for the popcorn. The touch felt like electric tension.

But … she’d pushed that aside. They were friends. They worked together in a good way and that would probably be gone if they started to get that close, she had considered. When she imagined kissing Fitz, her heart started to beat wilder in her chest. But it also seemed … weird. And dangerous.

There was too much to lose. 

And shortly before their ways parted, she met Milton. He wasn’t a genius. But he was kind and genuinely zealous, to make her satisfied. She’d enjoyed his attention, she’d not deny it.

Fitz didn’t like him. He called him dumb and grimaced, whenever Jemma brought him up.

When he started to complain about Milton stealing their Saturday movie evenings, Jemma sourly told him to get himself a girlfriend. He did. She was okay, Jemma thought carefully. But seeing Fitz with her felt so strange and she soon asked herself, if Fitz felt the same when he saw her with Milton.

However, this odd phase of their relationship lasted not long.

When Fitz left, he broke up with his girlfriend and soon after Fitz was gone, Jemma also broke up with Milton.

Milton was obviously heartbroken and she couldn’t help feel sorry for him. He used to stand on the street, under Jemma’s window, and sang horrible love ballades to her, until Jemma tipped a bucket full of cold water out directly on his head.

After that, Milton didn’t even look at her anymore, which honestly was a relief.

She was too busy having strange thoughts about Fitz anyway …

 

She’s interrupted in remembering, when Fitz says in a stunned voice, “Jemma? Oh God. It’s … it’s you. How did you …”

He stares at her, his mouth still hanging open. He blinks repeatedly. A choked noise escapes his throat and he lowers his head, avoiding her gaze.

Jemma frowns.

He’s acting … strange, she thinks. Even stranger than he has been at school. That has just been a natural lovely awkwardness. But this … it almost seems like he wants to hide something from her.

And when her initial surprise and confusion finally start to fade, she begins to wonder what he’s doing here.  
In a cottage in the snowy woods in the middle of nowhere.

How is it even possible, that of all the countless cottages that probably exist in this part of the world, she found the one Fitz is living in. It’s almost like it was bound to happen …

A hesitant silence starts to linger between them. A silence, which makes Jemma remember her current situation again.

Jemma shivers. Her fingertips and toes still feel numb. Everything is cold and wet. Snow starts to melt on her skin. She shudders, when she feels some of it trickling down her neck. She sniffles. Her nose is still dripping and burning.  

Fitz looks her up and down and clears his throat. “You should, uh, get out of your … your … clothes,” he says, looking aside. “I can get you some old pyjamas of mine. If you don’t mind.”

He still has an odd distance in his gaze and his arms are crossed over his chest. It looks like he’s shielding himself from her. And he’s talking in a strange way. Slow and deliberate. In the past he used to ramble a lot. He could talk for hours without a break, about the things that excited him.

But now is not the time to investigate, what this is all about. She really needs to get warm again. Or she will be horribly sick the next day.

“Thank you, that would be very kind,” Jemma says.

Fitz nods. “It’s al … okay. It’s okay. I’m … upstairs for a moment.”

He hurries off and leaves her standing in the middle of the hallway.  

Jemma sighs and shudders, taking off her parka, scarf and mittens, to hang them on the hall tree beside her.

There’s a quiet noise and she looks down, her eyes widening in surprise.

A black cat walks between her legs, looking up at her with golden eyes.

“Hey little one,” Jemma whispers and smiles. “Who are you?”

The cat meows and rubs its head against her knee.

But then it looks at the puddle of melted snow around Jemma’s feet and shakes out a paw in obvious disgust. It trots off then, tail raised.

Jemma chuckles and looks after it. How nice. Fitz got himself a cat. So … he isn’t completely alone. But still … what is he doing here? Is he on some kind of vacation? 

Fitz comes back, a heap of clothes in his arms. “Ah, you already met Toothless. She appeared in front of my door one day, demanding food. Since then, she comes and goes like she wants. But now, with the snowstorm, I guess she’s going to stay the night.”

“Toothless?” Jemma asks, amused.

He shrugs and grins.

Just like that, the air between them loses some of its heavy tenseness.

Fitz hands Jemma the clothes and a towel. “The bathroom is upstairs. If you want to take a shower.”

The thought of a warm shower, driving the coldness out of her body finally, is heavenly.

“Thank you, Fitz.” She turns around to leave, but then looks back at him one more time. Back into his eyes, that are bright blue and wondering.

“I missed you,” Jemma says.

He swallows. “I missed you too.”

*

Jemma sighs contently and closes her eyes as the hot stream of water hits her skin. Finally, the coldness truly disappears. Under the steamy water cascading down on her, her skin starts to prickle, and the tenseness leaves her body. After a while, she cracks an eye open and looks around in the shower. She smiles. Everything here is Fitz. There’s his favourite shampoo, his soap and his razor.

It reminds her of the time when they had to learn for finals and she’d invited Fitz over. Her parents weren’t there, and she was giddy with excitement at the imagination of having a night over with a friend. Didn’t happen before. It was funny to have his things everywhere. His toothbrush beside hers. He even brought his own pillow.

So many memories …

Automatically, her thoughts wander back to the question, what he’s doing here. She still can’t believe they found each other like this. It’s bizarre.

Jemma hopes Fitz doesn’t mind and takes some of his soap. She applies it on her body, a pleasant smell of lemon filling the shower cabinet. She doesn’t want to stop showering. Ever. It just feels so good. But when her fingers start to crinkle, she stops the stream of water with an unwilling sigh. When she steps out of the shower cabinet she shudders in the cold air and quickly wraps into the blue fuzzy towel, that Fitz had handed her together with the clothes. She hurries to dry her skin and hair as best as she can. Next, she puts on Fitz’s old pyjamas. They are too big for her. Not much, but her hands are disappearing in the sleeves and she smiles at that fact. She feels incredibly cozy in his things. She raises one arm to sniff on the fabric, to see if his scent is there. It is. That makes it even better to wear his clothes, for some reason.

She can’t believe she got him back like this.

*

When she comes back downstairs, she walks through the narrow hallway and into what seems to be the living room. The furniture is quite spartan. Some drawers. A couch, a table in front of it and a fireplace at the opposite side of the room. There’s a little fire burning in it.  

Jemma watches the flames dancing around for a moment, mesmerized.  Wood creaks and sizzles. 

She sits down on the couch and notices how exhausted she is.

Fitz comes into the room, with a tray in his hands. There are two steaming mugs on it. And a plate with biscuits.

“Tea?” He asks.

“Oh. Yes. Thank you.”

Fitz puts the tray on the table. He sits on the couch beside her and hands her one of the mugs.

Jemma takes it and sighs at the warmth that it gives over to her skin.

Suddenly, there’s a shuffling sound.

She looks up and gasps. A second reddish cat looks at her from behind a drawer. It has only one green eye. The other one is milky white, crossed by a long scar.

“This is Mincy,” Fitz says quietly. “I found her on a walk some time ago, in an abandoned barn. I think she was abused. It took her a long while to trust me. But now she cuddles a lot. But strangers. She has her problems with them.”

“I see,” Jemma says. “It’s so kind of you to adopt those cats, Fitz!”

He shrugs. “They needed someone.”

 _And you like to be needed. To help and take care of someone_ , Jemma adds in her thoughts. _Oh Fitz._

She knows him. It’s like they have never been separated.

But then, she thinks, it’s all different. He has changed. She feels it. She still has to figure it out though.

Now, as she’s in the warm cottage of her friend and there’s a crackling fire in front of her, winter seems less dreary again. She starts to feel cozy. Comfortable.

Toothless comes into the room and hops on the window sill, to look out into the storm. Her wide golden eyes follow the dancing snowflakes, transfixed.

“So,” Jemma eventually says, putting her mug on the table in front of the couch. “What were you doing? How’s your studies going?”

She hopes she can keep the hint of hurt she’s feeling out of her voice. He stopped writing and calling her after all. He decided to be some ghost, leaving her life without letting a track behind she could follow.

Fitz blinks at her. He takes a deep breath. Suddenly, his face gets a strange kind of pale, he almost looks greyish. His breaths start to get quicker and his gaze drifts off. She realizes with shock, that he’s having some kind of a panic attack.

“Fitz,” she says, reaching out to touch his shoulder carefully. “Fitz, it’s alright. I’m here. You’re safe. Try to breathe with me. Slow and deep. That’s it …”

After a few moments, he synchronises his breath with hers. He bends over, hiding his face in both hands for a moment. He’s trembling and she watches him concerned, feeling a twinge of worry in her heart.

When Fitz straightens up again, to look at her, there’s a deep pain in his eyes.

“Sorry,” he breathes. “Sorry …”

“It’s alright,” Jemma says softly. “Do you want to talk about it?” For the first time she starts to think, that what brought him here, is something terrible. Something, that was life-changing in a scary and bad way.

Fitz gulps. “I …” He starts, “It’s … I’m … Dammit!” He suddenly yells and slaps a hand on the table hard.

Jemma flinches and Mincy disappears back behind the drawer. Toothless looks at them from the window sill and meows long and high.

There’s a brief moment of shocked silence.

Fitz sighs. “Sorry.” He shakes his head. “Sometimes … sometimes I can’t deal with the pressure of the anger inside me.”

“It’s okay,” Jemma whispers, her hand still on his shoulder. “Just … take your time. I’m listening. As long as you want.”

Fitz nods tightly. “It’s just … It’s …” He clears his throat, pointing at his head. “I … I have … I’m …”

He makes a desperate noise.

Jemma just watches him, still concerned.

Fitz breathes in deeply a few times, trying to calm himself down. “Brain injury,” he finally bursts out. “I had a brain injury. It … it caused me, um, aphasia. Sometimes … sometimes the words are mixed up. That’s why I speak so slowly, and … and sometimes start to, um, stammer. And my hand is shaking because of that too. I spent a long time in rehabilitation. I’m fine. Mostly. But sometimes, um, when I feel stressed, it all comes back. Like now.”

Jemma swallows. Her suspicion has been confirmed. It’s something life-changing. Something that made him think, that it’s better to hide somewhere alone. Far away from the rest of the world. Far away from … her?

Brain injury. Oh God …

“What happened?” She asks quietly.

Fitz stares into the fireplace for a moment, his eyes haunted.

Jemma immediately adds, “You don’t have to tell me, if you don’t want to.”

Fitz shakes his head. “It’s alright. I have to. Must talk about it to process. It happened. I was in a car accident. It was just … like a whim of nature. Someone was drunk, and I was unfocused, tired of studying. He crashed right into my side when we were on a narrow bridge. My car … It fell in the river. Someone who saw it happening somehow managed to pull me out. Saved my life. I don’t even know their name. But … I have been underwater for too long. Was in a coma. For, um, nine days. When I woke up, I, I couldn’t talk. My life, as I knew it, it was over. And, and, I … I had to do all kind of therapy. I was a mess afterwards. I decided that I can’t … that I have to …” He looks away.

Jemma gets what he’s about to say and it hurts her heart. “You cancelled your studies,” she whispers. “Oh Fitz …”

He always has been so happy about being able to do what he loves. Engineering. Building things with his hands. He wanted to help people with his creations. Maybe build prostheses one day. A spaceship. Space was another thing that managed to fascinate him to no end. A fixation he had shared with her in many ways.

Fitz nods. “Yes. I cancelled. I couldn’t go on. I couldn’t … focus on anything. I had nightmares … About my car falling … about the water filling my lungs, about the darkness around me and the car sinking. I couldn’t … I needed some time alone. This cottage … it belonged to my grandfather,” he explains. “When he died … I got the key.”

Jemma nods. She feels numb. Horrible things happened to Fitz and she hasn’t been there. He went through it all alone.  

“I’m not entirely alone,” he goes on, as if he has read her thoughts. “My therapist comes three times a week. And Hunter, a friend from university, shows up from time to time. And of course, I have the cats ...”

“Fitz.” She has to ask this question. She wants to understand.

“Yeah?”

“Why have you never, you know, called me?”

Fitz swallows. He lowers his head to avoid her gaze. “I wanted to. I really did. I typed your number in. Again and again. But I never was able to actually make the call … Look. I’m different now, Jemma. I guess I’ve been scared of your reaction.” He looks up again, his eyes begging her to understand.

“I mean, I improved a lot. My speech is better, and my hand only shakes when I’m stressed out. But … still. I’m not the same. I’m not … who you used to know.”

“But Fitz. That … it doesn’t matter to me. You’re just … different now, but there’s nothing wrong with it,” Jemma tells him, reaching for his trembling hand, squeezing it. He looks down on her hand with wide eyes. “Don’t you think,” she says quietly but determined, “That this makes me think about you differently.”

There’s a moment of silence between them, as Fitz takes in her words. He doesn’t say anything, but he nods slowly, as if she said something that confirms a theory.

“You could go on, you know,” Jemma eventually tells him. “With your studies. It’s not too late for anything.”

Fitz shrugs. “I don’t know. I feel useless now,” he murmurs.

The words hurt Jemma deep inside. Because she knows from where they came from. She silently curses Fitz’s dad for being an abusive arsehole instead of the caring father he should have been for such a wonderful, sensitive, brilliant boy.

She shakes her head. “It’s your dream to do engineering, Fitz. It has always been your dream. Remember how you told me about it? How you showed me your sketches. I still believe you’re going to build spaceships sometime. I still believe you’re going to help people with your brilliant inventions. I believe in you, Fitz.”

Fitz looks up at her with wide eyes. “Thank you,” he says quietly.

Their eyes lock and there’s something tense but pleasant in the air between them. But they both startle, when there’s a particular violent gust of wind, making the windows rattle in their frames.

Jemma sighs. “I’m never going to arrive at my parent’s farm on time,” she murmurs.

Fitz nervously fumbles with his hands. “Don’t you want to try to call them?”

Jemma puts her mobile phone out and looks at it.

“Still no line,” she says and shakes her head. “I guess my useless car is about to disappear under three layers of snow right now anyway … No idea if I’m even going to find it when this storm is over.”

Fitz looks at her. He shifts his weight nervously. “You can stay the night. I have only one bedroom. But I can sleep on the couch. It’s alright.”

“Really?” Jemma asks.

“Really,” he nods.

Jemma smiles at him. It’s good that she has a place to stay for the night. It’s even better that the place she found belongs to a friend she has been missing. She’s going to feel save here. “I appreciate this. Thank you, Fitz,”

  
*  
  
Jemma brushes her teeth in the little bathroom upstairs, watching her face in the mirror. The thoughts are racing in her head. This day has been a lot. She feels the exhaustion creeping in every cell of her body.

She hurries to get into bed. It’s cozy and it smells faintly after Fitz. On the pillow and the mattress are some black cat hairs and she wonders, if she will get a visit from Toothless tonight. She wouldn’t mind. Not at all. She yawns, feeling sleepy immediately.

Outside, the storm is still roaring. The windows are rattling from the force of the wind. But now she’s warm and safe, so it isn’t that scary anymore.

Her thoughts wander back to Fitz. He went through hell and back again. Alone. He had been too scared to call her. But she would have come to him. Immediately. She would have helped him. She would have dried his tears and helped him to deal with his nightmares and fears.

She would have been there for him.  
  
She _wants_ to be there for him.  
  
This last thought is surprisingly clear and desperate. It’s still lingering when she falls asleep out of sheer exhaustion.

*  
  
She awakes late the next morning.

Fitz apparently didn’t set an alarm. And her body seemed to need the sleep.

She indeed got a visit in the middle of the night. Tiny paws have walked over her stomach and a wet nose has studied her face thoroughly. She smiles and gets up yawning, stretching her limbs. She feels well rested. She spends half an hour in the bathroom, showering again curtly and combing her hair, until every knot is gone. She opens her suitcase, hoping her own clothes won’t be wet. She sighs relieved, when she finds them dry and warm. She puts on one of her sweaters and sweatpants and goes downstairs to look for Fitz.

He is still asleep on the couch. He’s laying on his back, tangled in his blanket. His curls are like a bird’s nest on his head and his mouth is slightly open. He looks adorable and young, and Jemma feels a rush of fondness for him.

She missed him.

A lot.

When she finally notices, that she’s staring at him, leaned against the doorframe, at least a few minutes passed. She shakes her head. What would he think if he woke up and saw her watching him? It was probably looking quite creepy …

Jemma quickly turns away and walks into the hallway instead. She opens the door to take a look outside. She gasps.

Now, without the dark cloak of night and a curtain of dense snowflakes, she sees the beauty of her surroundings. The world has calmed down from the storm and it’s stunning. The sky above is clear now. A light blue, almost uninterrupted except for a white cloud then and there, being pushed over the horizon by a light breeze. The branches of the naked towering trees around her hang low with the weight of snow. There’s a small lake in front of the cottage. It’s covered by a layer of ice, sparkling in the sunlight. Her breaths rises up in visible puffs, while she's taking in the beauty of the woods.

“Good morning.”

Jemma startles a bit, when she hears Fitz’s hoarse voice behind her. She turns around to look at him, a smile spreading on her face. “It’s so beautiful here, Fitz!”

He smiles back at her timidly, still in his pyjamas. He scratches the back of his head. “Yeah. Well. I love that it’s so calm. Barely anyone ever comes here.”

“Do you never feel lonely?” She asks.

He shrugs and looks away. But he doesn’t say anything. He walks back into the cottage and she follows him, closing the door behind her.

“What is this?” She asks and points at a scaffold, hidden behind a white blanket, standing leaned against the wall.

Fitz shrugs, suddenly seeming abashed. “Oh. Nothing special. Just, uh, a drawing of the forest.”

“What, really?” She asks surprised. “Please show me!”

He pulls the blanket away and reveals a canvas. On it is a perfect, colourful detailed drawing of the nature around them.

She looks at the drawing in awe. “Fitz … that’s stunning!”

He shrugs again, his face covered by a slight flush now. “My therapist suggested drawing. It’s good for calming the mind.”

“Did you draw more?”

He nods and shows her a few of his pictures. Winter landscapes. Sunsets.

“They’re all so beautiful,” she tells him. Then she smiles a bit cheekily. “Will you draw me too one day?”

He throws her a quick look and swallows. “Maybe.” He clears his throat. “Um. How about breakfast? I’ve not much here … but I’ll make the best of it.”

Jemma smiles at him. “Yes please. I’m starving.”

He makes them waffles, scrambled eggs and toast.

Everything’s delicious and she tells him so, to which he reacts with a little shrug but also a happy grin.

When she’s eating, Toothless jumps on her lap, looking if she has something cat-serviceable, and disappears disappointed when that’s not the case.

Fitz asks her about her own studies, and Jemma tells him about it enthusiastically. Since she has started, she hasn’t even once doubted that Bio-Chemistry was the right choice for her. She watches Fitz closely while she’s talking, somehow hoping she could give him back some courage and willingness to go on with his studies.

 

After breakfast, Jemma joins Fitz to sit in front of the fireplace. They stare into the flames for a while in silence and watch how they curl and sway, flicking from one way to another, crackling as they burn dry wood and paper down to crumbled black pieces.

After a while, Jemma asks him, “Fitz. Who are you spending Christmas with?”

He shrugs and looks at his hands again. “Um. I’m on my own, I guess.”

Jemma frowns. “What’s with your mother? Aren’t you going to visit her?”

Fitz looks down at his hands. “I don’t know if I can. I don’t know if I have the energy to leave this place. It’s … Sometimes I just want to not even get out of bed, you know. Never again.”

Jemma nods. Depression. It’s not a shocking surprise, considering what he’s been through. She looks at him and once again realizes how different he is now. His face lost all boyish features. The lines of seriousness around his eyes, the crinkle on his forehead. He looks older, more cautious, like life lost its tracks on him.

She wants to tell him she’s going to help him, but suddenly, he murmurs, “I’m sorry.”

Jemma looks at him questioningly. “For what?”

“For … disappearing.” He swallows hard. “I’ve never stopped thinking about you,” he says barely audible. “I thought … I thought it would stop if I leave, you know?”

“What would stop?” She asks softly.  

“This … the pain. When I thought I’m about to die, I wasn’t scared of death. My last thought was about you. I was feeling guilty and sad I could never … tell you the truth.”

“The truth?” Jemma repeats, feeling her heart beating wilder in her chest for some reason.  

He looks up at her. “You’re … very important to me, Jemma,” he says quietly.

“Fitz … you’re very important to me too. We are friends. You’re my best friend in the world,” she clarifies.

He shakes his head. A certain kind of bitterness, mixed with desperation fills his eyes. “Yeah … But you … you’re _more_ than that, Jemma.”

_Oh._

Jemma is sure her heart has just missed a beat.

They stare at each other.

Jemma blinks repeatedly, as she takes in what he has just said. You’re more than that. More than a friend. _More …_

Her mouth gets dry, as she realizes, that all this time, she thought she would do something stupid if she admits or shows she has feelings for Fitz, he was thinking exactly the same. They have been dancing around each other like moths around the light, without ever really meeting each other in the middle …

Fitz’s eyes fill with the shocked desperation that comes with the realization of having said too much. “I’m sorry,” he murmurs and starts to turn away from her. “It’s … I shouldn’t have said that.”

“No!” Jemma reaches out for him. She grabs his arm and he stares back at her, his eyes wide open. “Fitz … I … Listen. Whatever you feel. I feel the same.”

Fitz blinks at her. “What?” He says flabbergasted.

“Yes.” Jemma lowers her gaze.  “I … I wasn’t sure. Back then. But I know now, that I knew it all along. I have feelings for you. I’ve had them already, before you left. But … I didn’t want to destroy what we’ve had, you understand?” She looks at him pleadingly. “I didn’t want to lose you … My friend. The only one I had.”

“Jemma … But _Milton_!” He says, scrunching up his face in faint disgust, even in his confusion and surprise.

Jemma laughs shortly. “Milton. Well. I broke up with him right after you left Fitz.”

“Oh.”

“He was … He was nice. Really. He wanted to be everything I need. But it was unfair. Because … he never could have been what I need. Because … fact is, I need _you_ , Fitz. I’ve always needed you.”

“Oh,” he makes again. It sounds breathless.

She looks at him. Really looks at him.

His pupils are dilated. The flames of the fireplace are dancing in his dark eyes. His lips are slightly parted and as she’s staring at them, she feels the sudden strong burning need to cross the distance between them and kiss him. Actually, this need is unbearable. It boils in her like a raging fire, that’s going to consume her completely.

“Fitz.”

He swallows hard. She can see his Adam’s apple bobbing. “Yes?”

“Can I kiss you?” Jemma asks.

Fitz makes a choked noise in the back of his throat and shudders helplessly. “Yes.”

Jemma takes a deep breath and leans forward, until their noses almost touch. Their lips meet, and it feels like an electric shock. Fitz flinches back from her, but then he comes back, closing the gap again. His lips are warm and soft, slightly cracked here and then. Jemma savours the feeling.

Their kiss is slow first. Almost tentative. But it gets more passionate quickly. When Fitz’s lips part slightly, Jemma takes the opportunity, to push her tongue into his mouth and explore. He moans and his tongue brushes against her. She hums and shivers in pleasant tenseness.  

As their kissing is going on, Jemma’s stomach flutters as if a thousand butterflies would teasing her inner walls, and her legs start to feel weak. It gets messy. Unfocused. At some point their noses bump together briefly and they both giggle breathlessly.

They part, looking at each other with wide open sparkling eyes.

Their shared glance is heated. 

Jemma lets her eyes roam over Fitz’s body for a moment. They linger on the spot on his pants, where the outline of his hardened cock is clearly visible, and she feels a burning longing in her stomach.

She abruptly moves to sit in his lap, wrapping her arms around him. Fitz makes a surprised noise, his hands coming up on their own accord, to lay on her hips. When Jemma deliberately rolls her hips, Fitz groans into her open mouth and she smiles. His clothed erection rubs against the perfect spot and she lets a moan out herself. One of Fitz’s hands start to wander over her back. Firm strokes, that give her a goose bump.

She realizes absently, that they move like if they have been doing this the whole time. They’re touching each other like they have been knowing their bodies for ages. Like they are already the symbiosis they are about to become.

It’s like a miracle.

And yet, it’s reality.

Which Fitz seems to notice all of a sudden, because his hands stops moving, and he stares up at Jemma with slightly glassy eyes. “Jemma.”

“Hmm?”

“What … what are we doing?”

She leans her forehead against his. “We’re making out, aren’t we?”

He swallows. Concern fills his eyes and lifts the curtain of hazy lust in them just a bit. “Oh. Is this … is it just a one-time thing? You know, like …”

She gets it then and hurries to cup his face in her hands, making him look into her eyes. “Fitz no. Of course not.”

Fitz’s eyes switch over her face and the concern slowly fades. But it’s still lingering. “Good. Because … I couldn’t deal with … you don’t have to do this, Jemma.”

“But I want it,” she says. “I want you.”

He draws in a sharp breath. “I want you too,” he whispers. “I want you forever.”

She shudders. The words reverberate in her head and make her heart flutter. “Then make me yours,” she says. It sounds a bit cheeky, almost challenging, she thinks. But it’s also somewhat of a promise.

This isn’t a One Night Stand. It’s them, rediscovering what has been blooming in their hearts right before they lost each other. It’s them, searching and finding this time. It’s them.

She sees in his eyes that he understands. She sees the moment he lets go.

His hands grab her hips and he pulls her down on him surprisingly hard. They both moan. “Jemma,” he whispers, and she shivers in pleasant anticipation. Her name on his lips sounds like a prayer. “Jemma …”

She gasps when his still clothed erection hits that certain perfect spot again and notices that she wants to get rid of every piece of cloth between them. Now.

“Clothes,” she says breathlessly.

Fitz nods absently.

He pulls his jumper off and throws it on the floor carelessly. She eyes his chest, the thin line of hairs that disappears under his pants and bites her lip.

He pulls her sweater off next. She can feel his determination, to stay patient and calm, but underneath, she senses that he’s as greedy for this than she is. When her sweater is gone, thrown onto the floor beside his jumper carelessly, he tries to unclasp her bra, and that’s when the trembling in his bad hand starts. He groans and shakes his hand out frantically, but the tremor doesn’t get any better.

“Sorry,” he says, avoiding her gaze.

Jemma kisses his forehead. “It’s alright Fitz.”

She takes his hand and leads it back to her bra. She helps him this time.

She gets up to pull the rest of her clothes off as quickly as possible. The brief moment she’s away from Fitz’s warmth, feels like torture. She gets rid of her jogging pants and socks, even of her panties, until she’s standing in front of him completely naked.  

Fitz looks up at her, breathing heavily. He stares at her like she is a work of art and her skin prickles pleasantly under his lingering gaze. “You’re gorgeous,” he breathes with a voice that’s slightly hoarse. “So beautiful. Absolutely perfect. Christ. Jemma …”

She smiles down at him. “Now you. I want to see you too.”

He shudders and gets up as well. His sweatpants are gone quickly. No button that would slow down things. When he’s about to get rid of his black briefs, she grabs his hand and he looks at her questioningly. “Let me,” she says.

He swallows and nods.

She grabs the waistband of his briefs and slowly pushes them down, until he steps out of them. In the process, she must bend down a bit and gets on eye level with his erection. It’s hard as a rock and flushed, pressed against his stomach.    
  
She bites her lip, feeling another pull of longing in her stomach.

When she straightens up again, his eyes follow the movement of her breasts, mesmerized.

Now they’re standing in front of each other, naked. Bare, deprived of every barrier between them.

Jemma looks Fitz up and down.  

The flames from the fireplace illuminate his features. His chest isn’t overly ripped, but she can see the outlines of his pectoral muscles just fine, how she prefers it. And overall, he is pleasantly symmetrical.

He’s perfect.

She locks eyes with him again.

“Can I touch you?” She asks quietly.  

He nods, his breath getting quicker and the black of his pupils chasing away the blue of his iris even more.

She reaches out, running a single finger over his length feather-lightly.

Fitz inhales sharply and his eyes flutter shut, only to open again, to watch her finger wandering.

She puts it on the head of his cock and runs it over the slit, hearing him moan in the back of his throat. She lets her finger wander back over his shaft, until she can move it over his testicles and he breathes out a throaty, barely audible “Bloody hell."

Jemma bites her lip. She’s turned on by his reactions to her touch. She can feel the lust pooling in her stomach.

She wraps her hand around him and strokes up and down a few times, watching every reaction on his face. The way his brows furrow, the lines on his forehead crease and his lips twitch. He groans and suddenly catches her wrist.

She looks at him questioningly.

Fitz’s cheeks are flushed. He shakes his head. “If you keep this up, this … this is going to be over very, um, quick.”

“Oh.” Jemma pulls her hand away from his cock.

Fitz looks at her boobs and swallows hard. “Can I, uh, touch you too?” He asks.

She nods.

He draws in a sharp breath and steps closer. She looks at him expectantly.

He raises his hand, apparently not sure where to put it. When it hovers in the air for too long for her taste, Jemma takes it and puts it on her left boob.

Fitz draws in a sharp breath. He cups her breast in his hand and squeezes carefully, then glides his thumb over her hardening nipple.

Jemma makes an approving noise. Drawing courage out of her reaction, Fitz touches her other boob too, palming it, before dropping his hand and touching her between her legs.

“Oh,” Jemma makes, closing her eyes and biting her lip, when his fingers glide between her folds.

“You’re wet,” he says hoarsely. It sounds slightly surprised.

He starts to explore. His fingers wander over her labia, before they rub over her clit for a moment and she reaches for his arm, clutching it, when her legs start to feel weak.

“Is this alright?” He asks quietly.

“More than alright,” Jemma says breathlessly.

She gasps in surprise when he pushes one finger into her slowly. “Yes,” she whispers. Fitz draws in a shaky breath and begins move his finger around experimently.

Jemma grabs his arm firmer and lays her head against his shoulder, her eyes closed and her brow furrowed, as she concentrates on the feeling of his calloused finger moving inside of her. But her legs tremble stronger underneath her and her body feels too light to hold her upright any longer.

“Fitz,” she moans. “I need to … I can’t stand any longer.”

Fitz pulls out and takes his wonderful hand away, and Jemma almost pulls it back, but she sees that he hurries to get the fuzzy red blanket from the couch.

 _Good idea_ , she thinks absently, when he spreads it on the wooden carpet.  

She lays down on it and opens her arms for him. “Come here,” she pleads.

Her longing for him is pulsing inside her, making her feel warm and a bit drowsy.

Fitz comes to lay beside her. She pulls him close, wrapping both arms around him, and they moan softly, when their naked skin meets. The cuddle for a moment, just feeling each other’s warmth and smoothness.

Jemma inhales Fitz’s scent and shivers. Her thoughts are racing. There are so many things she wants to try out with him. But her need to feel him as close as possible, is so strong that it blends everything else out.

“I need you inside me,” she tells him, and he groans.

“Christ, Jemma …”

He lowers his head to kiss her neck and she sighs. “Come on, Fitz,” she begs, mild impatience in her voice and he chuckles. But suddenly, he freezes. His eyes widen, and he lets out a desperate groan.

“What’s the matter Fitz?” Jemma asks, concerned.

He looks at her gravely. “I don’t have any condoms.”

“Oh.” Jemma laughs. “That’s alright. I’m on birth control. And I have been checked recently. You?”

“Um. Last time I was checked nothing was wrong …”

Jemma beams. “Perfect. No condoms needed.”

She pulls him closer, kissing him again. With mild impatience in her movements, she makes him to lay on his back and moves to straddle him again. She bites her lip, when his cock bumps against her clit. Hot and smooth. Her arousal is burning in her stomach and it’s prickling all down to between her legs.

All her patience is gone.

She needs him. Now.  

The position they’re in, is perfect.

Their eyes are locked, and she can see every reaction on his face, when she slowly rubs herself on his cock. He bites his lips and his eyelashes flutter. His mouth is slightly open, and his breath quickens.

She reaches behind to take his erection in her hand and he groans. “Jemma …”

She positions him at her entrance, and slowly pushes down on him, closing her eyes and biting her lip. “Oh … Oh God.”

Fitz groans and tilts his head back.

When he’s all the way inside her, she stops, arching her back and throwing her head back. It feels shockingly good. He feels like he was made for her. “Fitz …” She breathes. “You feel so good …”

He looks up at her, breathing heavily, his eyes shining in wonder. She starts to move up and down slowly a few times, and his lips open for a moan. “Jemma …”

She loves to hear him whispering her name like this. She knows she could never get tired of it. It sounds like a love song.

He bucks up to meet her and she gasps, when he hits a particular perfect spot. “Oh Fitz,” she gasps into his mouth. “Right there …”

He does it again. And again. Until she’s moaning relentlessly, clutching his arms.

He stares up at her with an expression in his eyes that shows that he still didn’t really grasp the realness of this. So she’s determined to show him. She bends her head and kisses him wildly, passionately. He groans into her mouth.

She rolls her hips and Fitz gasps. “Christ, Jemma …”

She smirks and moves up and down faster. The movement and the evolving sensations are intoxicating. The air around them is heady and heavy with arousal.

In the heat of the moment, Fitz slips out of her once and they chuckle breathlessly, as she fumbles for him to put him back inside her.  

Everything’s light and easy when they’re doing it together.

Natural.

Sometime, Jemma stops, breathing heavily. Her legs are burning with the effort of the relentless movements. She slumps over Fitz, who looks at her questioningly. “I just need a break,” she mumbles against his neck. He smiles.

She kisses his neck and decides it’s on him to do the tough work now. “Can we change positions?” She asks and strokes a finger over his heated face. 

“Sure. How …”

“Missionary. You on top this time. I want to see your face.”

“Okay.”

She rises, biting her lip as his erection glides out of her, and lays on her back. The fuzzy blanket caresses her body and she’s amazed at how much warmth the near fireplace is still spending, the flames dancing as long dark shadows above the walls.

Fitz gets on his knees between her legs and gently pushes her thighs further apart. Jemma feels a little dread at being exposed and vulnerable like this, but it’s not an unpleasant feeling, because it’s Fitz and how could she ever feel threatened by him …

Fitz looks down at her somewhat searchingly. Then, he positions his cock at her entrance.

They both moan when he pushes back inside.

For a moment, he remains still, just savouring the feeling, his head thrown back. Jemma wraps her legs around him and softly says, “Move Fitz.”

He obeys and starts with slow, long thrusts.

Jemma buries one hand in his soft curls, pulling at them softly.

He moans in an approving way.

His warm calloused hands reach for her bum and he raises her a bit into the air, his thrust getting quicker and firmer.

She cries out at the perfect angle and her eyes flutter shut.

“Look at me Jemma,” Fitz whispers.

She opens her eyes again. His face above her is a bit blurred, but she sees the depths of adoration in his eyes nevertheless.

“Jemma …”

“Oh Fitz …”

He bends his head to mouth at her neck, his lips caressing every bit of her skin he can reach and she’s panting, breathless, feeling getting closer to the edge. She reaches down to touch her clit, but Fitz notices and pushes her fingers away, replacing them with his own, and Jemma cries out in surprise, as he finds the perfect way to touch her right now. He gathers some of the wetness from where they’re joined and spreads it on her clit, to make his touch smoother.

His gaze is intense, as his eyes switch over her face to take in every reaction.

His thrusts get erratic, unfocused.

She knows he’s close. She’s not quite there yet, but it’s alright. She wants to watch him coming apart because of her. She wants the one doing this to him.

“Jemma …”

He gasps and presses his eyes shut. He comes, moaning and cursing. She feels his cock twitching inside her and the warm flood of semen, and shivers as waves of arousal run up her spin down to her toes, which cringle. 

“Jemma,” Fitz sighs into her neck, his breath prickling her skin. “Jemma, Jemma, Jemma …”

It’s like a mantra on his lips.

His body trembles above her and she holds him, her hands roaming over his back. When he caught his breath, he rolls on his side next to her, his hand coming to lay on her heaving stomach.

“Wow,” he says quietly.

“Hm,” Jemma agrees.

But then, Fitz gasps and looks at her with wide eyes. “You didn’t come,” he states.

Jemma shakes her head. “No, but …” Her words change into a breathy moan, when Fitz moves to touch her clit with two fingers, rubbing tight circles around it.

“Show me how you like to be touched,” he whispers in her ear. “I want to know.”

Jemma shudders. She reaches for his hand and leads him. Together, they continue to stimulate her clit, until Jemma senses the first hints of her upcoming orgasm.

She feels it pooling in her stomach. A tingling sensation in her toes. Shivers running up and down her spine. Her moans get higher and her breaths faster. Her hips start to raise up to arche into Fitz’s touch and he looks at her in awe, whispering, “Yes Jemma”, softly.

She cries his name when she comes. She falls over the edge and falls and falls. The heights of her pleasure are violent waves and she floats on them, for what seems like eternity. She trembles helplessly, pushing Fitz’s hand away, when he continues touching her and she gets oversensitive. For a moment, the air around them is filled with nothing else but their erratic breaths.

They’re both sweaty and breathless. Exhausted with satisfaction. Eventually, Fitz pulls her close, wrapping his arms around her. Jemma closes her eyes and sighs contently against Fitz’s sweaty neck.

It’s so warm.

She can hear Fitz’s breaths, feels it on her heated skin. She listens to the cracking of the burning wood in the fireplace and lazily runs a hand over Fitz’s heaving back.

She opens her eyes to look at Fitz.

His eyes are closed, and his breaths are even. It seems like he dozed off.

Jemma watches him for a  moment, feeling the adoration for him pulsing deep inside her.

But she also has to pee, she notices and sighs. Fitz’s arms are still wrapped around her firmly and one of his leg lies over her stomach, pressing directly on her bladder, which starts to get a bit painful.

Jemma shakes his shoulder softly. “Fitz.”

“Uh.”

“Fitz!”

He opens his eyes and blinks at her. “What?”

“I really need to pee,” she tells him.

He chuckles and lets go off her with a unwilling groan. “Come back,” he murmurs barely audible, his eyes already closed again.

“Of course,” Jemma tells him amused, asking herself where else she should go.

She gets up with a groan and walks upstairs on weak trembling legs. Her body feels light and heavy at the same time. But overall completely satisfied.

When she sits on the toilet, the awareness hits her with full force. She just had sex with Fitz. And it was amazing.

A voice in her head asks her, how they’re supposed to go on from here, but she pushes it aside. Right now, she doesn’t want to think. She wants to feel the aftermath of something that seems like a miracle.

*

When Jemma returns to the living room, Fitz is still laying on his back on the red blanket. His eyes are closed, his body spread out, and she takes a moment to admire the sight.  

“Fitz,” she finally shakes him again and he grunts. “You can’t sleep here on the floor. Let’s go to bed.”

He opens one eye to look at her. “Bed?” He echoes, sounding stunned.

“Yes,” she says but then adds quickly, “Or not, if you don’t want to share …”

Fitz hurries to sit up and looks up at her wide-eyed. “Are you … Of course, I share my bed with you. I … it’s big. Too big for one person and … I often imagined … no, I mean I … I’ll stop talking now,” he ends with a sigh.

Jemma smiles. She takes his hand. “Come on. Let’s go clean up first.”

*

They shower together this time.

It’s one of many first times.

Fitz lets her wash his hair. He closes his eyes, when she starts to rub the shampoo in, and makes quiet content adorable noises in the back of his throat, which lets her know how much he enjoys this and causes her heart to flutter.

After she’s done rinsing the shampoo out of his curls, he returns the favour. His hands feel so good when they start massaging her head, she almost dozes off, leaned against him.

In the end they stand there a while longer, just pressed together under the hot stream of water and for a moment, Jemma feels another faint wave of lust, when she feels his half hard cock twitching against her bum. But she’s exhausted, tired, and right now she wants nothing else but cuddling in a bed, while sleep overtakes her.

And she senses, Fitz thinks and feels the same.

*

When they’re finally laying in bed together, facing each other, it’s just another thing that feels completely right.

Fitz looks at her in awe and strokes over her cheek with his fingertips, feather lightly. “You’re really here,” he says quietly. “You’re … I can’t believe you’re here, Jemma.”

“I am,” she says, cupping his cheek in her hand. “I am here now. I won’t let you leave me again.”

He makes a quiet noise in the back of his throat and presses his face into the crook of her neck in a gesture, that seems incredibly vulnerable.

Jemma runs her fingers through his freshly washed fluffy hair for a while and yawns every few minutes. Her eyes fall shut every now and then.

Fitz eventually takes the hint. He pulls the blanket over their bodies and takes care Jemma has enough space and enough of the pillow.   

She reaches for his hand under the blanket. He meets her halfway and their fingers intertwine tightly.

The clutches of sleep reach for Jemma quickly and she allows it. She feels save and warm.

*

Jemma wakes up to the fresh sharp chilly air of a typical winter morning.

She blinks and frowns when she takes in her surroundings. Strange, unfamiliar … _Oh._

Only slowly, memories come back to her. It’s so much …

Her car, disappearing in masses of snow. Her desperate walk through a forest, on her search for a cottage she drove by. Finding the cottage only to realize its resident is no one else but her best friend from school, Fitz. Fitz’s story about his accident and his retreat. Their kiss. And the sex. Oh, the sex. They really did that … They had sex in front of the fireplace.

Right? It happened?

And for a faint scary moment, the last day, the happenings, seem like a warm wonderful dream. But then she turns around and sees Fitz’s face right in front of her. She smiles, as a rush of joy overwhelms her. Yes. It happened. And oh, her heart feels like it’s about to burst with happiness. She reaches out for him and strokes her fingers over Fitz’s cheek.

His eyes flutter open. For a moment, they are unfocused. The clutches of sleep let go off him only slowly. But then his gaze falls on her face and it sticks on it. The blue in his eyes sparkles.   

“Hey,” Jemma whispers.

“Hey,” Fitz breathes back hoarsely and smiles.

He blinks at her. Suddenly, his gaze gets worried. “This … Us … It happened, right?”

“Yes,” Jemma breathes. “Yes, it happened.”

Fitz frowns. For a moment, the familiar concern is back in his eyes. He opens his mouth but Jemma hurries to lay a finger on his lips. “Don’t you dare say you’re sorry,” she whispers. “Because I’m not. Not at all.”

He closes his mouth again and nods. “Then I’m neither.”

They look at each other,

“It’s Christmas,” Jemma says, when she remembers what day it is.

“Oh. Yeah,” Fitz says, looking up at the ceiling. He’s still smiling, but there’s some distant sadness creeping into his gaze.  

Jemma looks at him and immediately knows what she wants – what she has - to do. “I’m going to stay with you. Today. Maybe tomorrow too.”

Fitz stares at her starstruck. But then he frowns. “What about your parents … they’re going to worry.”

“I’ll call them later. Tell them the truth. That I’ve found love in a little cottage in a snowed in forest,” she tells him and laughs.

He looks at her with wide eyes, like she’s a miracle. “But … I don’t have any, uh, Christmas decoration. A tree. Or presents,” he says slowly.

Jemma shakes her head. “We don’t need that. We have each other. And besides, I already got my present. The only one I need,” she winks at him. “And,” she adds, “We can visit your mother too. I’ll help you. Together it’s less difficult to do things. It’s going to be alright.”

He looks at her, his eyes getting a bit teary. “I don’t deserve you,” he says quietly, sounding choked off.

“Yes, you do.  You always did. We deserve each other,” Jemma says. “We just … needed some time to admit the truth to ourselves.”

Fitz scoffs. “Thought we are two geniuses. _Why_ did it take us so long?”

“Because, Fitz, we’re only geniuses when it comes to complex weird science stuff no one else around us seems to understand. When we have to deal with emotions, we are two idiots.”

Fitz makes a half amused, half bitter sound. “Guess you’re right. Yeah.”

Jemma nods and adds quietly, “And back then … I felt like there was too much to –“

“- to lose,” he ends her sentence with a knowing expression on his face.

“Yes,” she says. “I didn’t want to lose my friend. But now I’m here and I’ve only won.”

“And it doesn’t bother you, that I’m … that I’m damaged?” He asks quietly.

“You’re yourself Fitz. You’re perfect,” she tells him. “And the things you’re struggling with … We’re going to tackle them together, alright? And don’t forget, you still have to draw me sometime. I insist on it!”

Fitz sighs against her skin and cuddles even closer against her. “Jemma. I love you,” he murmurs, sounding almost shy.

“I love you too.” The words feel so natural on her lips. She knows she said them already. Not out loud. But with her mind and heart.

She knows she wants to wake up beside him every day.

She has been so lonely for so long. Like a part of her was missing.

They’re going to manage this somehow. Life. Present and future. Together they can make it. She feels that’s the truth. And she’s going to tell it to Fitz until he believes her.

Jemma lays her head on Fitz’s chest and closes her eyes.  “Let’s never leave each other’s side again.”

 

They don’t.

 

**Author's Note:**

> I'm not a native speaker and always grateful for being corrected! I'm constantly trying to improve my English, so please don't hesitate to tell me about mistakes. <3
> 
> Visit me on tumblr: [ready-to-kick-some-ass](https://ready-to-kick-some-ass.tumblr.com/) :)


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